Sequeled
by SickoLady
Summary: A sequel to "Arrowed". Fishlegs looks for a way to cope with his guilt. Hiccup tries to get Astrid to admit that she has a crush on him. Rocka paints a big capital letter L on the forehead of her gimpy husband while he sleeps. Get ready to be Sequeled
1. Chapter 1

Hey, guys :D This is a sequel to "Arrowed". So if you didn't read "Arrowed" first then there's a decent chance that you won't have any idea what's going on. Yes, also, I'm going to warn you: **THIS FIC IS SHAMELESS PERVERTED SMUT**. So if your sense of humor is not quite as dark as mine, and/or your prone to vomiting then don't read it. Also, I might not update this one as quickly as I did the original. Don't worry, you guys, it has nothing to do with you personally. I just need to spend less time on the Internet because, I assure you, I spend way WAY too much time on the Internet. Eventually this story will be completed. Better audience response will inspire faster updates.

**Sequeled**

Fishlegs didn't feel like going to dragon training today. He didn't feel like putting up with the Snotlout and the Twins, and answering their stupid, inane, questions about where he was last night, and he didn't feel like making up bunch of dumb lies to shut them up.

This was a sort of domino effect that was both predictable and inevitable. Eventually it would happen. But it didn't have to happen today. Fishlegs wasn't much in the mood for it...and beside he was too damned depressed.

He was going to ditch class, he decided. He was going to ditch class and...um...join a band of roving warriors? No that was stupid. Maybe he would develop an super hero alter ego and fight crime. That was less stupid...well almost. A series of impossible, impractical, scenarios unfolded themselves in Fishlegs' mind, all of them seemed to have something to do with changing his identity. Maybe he would dye his hair black and change his name to something more sinister sounding...like Bob...or Richard-but no, those names sounded too fake. People would figure out that it was him. He would have to change his name to something believable...like Sharkheads. Yea, Sharkheads, that was totally sinister sounding, and it was believable too.

Fishlegs searched his room for some more sinister-looking clothes. He found a shirt that was grey, and some dark colored pants that were ripped at the knees. He found an ink well in the top drawer of an old cabonate, and dumped the contents out onto his head, massageing into his hair to disguise its sunny, blond, color.

He examined his reflection in the cracked surface of a dusty mirror that was hanging on the wall above the old cabinet. A sullen, dark-haired, boy stared back at him. A doofy looking grin curled his fat face. He was very pleased with the results.

He mussed his hair a bit, and attempted a scowl. The effect was rather comical, but Fishlegs didn't care. It was like he was a different person now, and that was all that really mattered.

He walked out into the living room where his mother, Rocka, was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. She seemed to be staring at the wall in front of her with a glazed look in her eyes. A few feet away, Fishlegs' youngest Brother (who was about three and a half) was playing with Rocka's collection of razor sharp kitchen knives.

The old Fishlegs might have done something about this. But the new Fishlegs didn't care. He wasn't even going to mention it.

"Fishlegs, what in the name of Oden have you done to your hair?" exclaimed Rocka, when she noticed Fishlegs walk into the room.

"Surpised you noticed it," replied Fishlegs dryly. "I'm dark and disturbed now."

"-And you look ridiculous."

"What?"

"You keep telling me that your 'dark and destrubed' now," said Rocka. "But you keep forgetting to mention that you look ridiculous. 'Your dark, and disturbed and you look ridiculous.' That's what you should be telling me."

Fishlegs tried to scowl, but only managed to look like he had a headache.

"You don't understand me anyway," grumbled Fishlegs, and he stomped out the door, but not before wresting the kitchen knife out of his brother's hand and placing it on a piece of furniture too high for him to reach.

...

Hiccup was back at work, and hating every minute of it. The customers were driving him insane with their idiotic questions, and shameless nosiness.

It wasn't enough to just drop your sword off at the freaking blacksmith's shop anymore, oh no, people had to stick around and make small talk.

_Hey weren't you that stupid kid that shot himself with an arrow? Why do you have two black eyes? Did someone punch you? Are you stupid? Because if your stupid then I don't think I want you touching my armour. Why are you all scratched and stuff? You better not have a blood disease, because if you make me catch a blood disease then I'M NOT PAYING. Why is there a cushion on your bench? Does it hurt to sit? Your kind of a wuss, aren't you? I hope that you repair weapons better than you do everything else, because if you don't then I'm taking my business ELSEWHERE._

Hiccup was beginning to wish that they would take their business elsewhere, but this was very much an empty threat. They were much too interested in Hiccup's business. Berk could be a very dull place in peace time, and gossip was one of its residences' chief diversions (after drinking, combat, and competitive winter sports).

He saw Astrid from time to time, who often wandered into the shop to stare at Hiccup, with an expression that said: "_I want jump on on you and rape you._" She never said anything to him. She just stared. He had to admit it was pretty freaky...but it was still flattering, and the moment that Astrid had declared her love for him was still one of the proudest moments of his life.

She would never admit it, though. She was convinced that Hiccup hadn't heard her say it, and she wasn't about to go and say it again.

He watched her, watching him from across the room. Her blue eyes had a sort of glassy, inanimate, quality to them. Her hair was disheveled, and she had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She was still pretty though, and Hiccup really liked her. He wanted to say something to her, but he was afraid that she might just ignore him, and that would just make him look pathetic. He contented himself with looking at her, observing the way that she fained interest in a display of double-edged battle axes that were organised into various sizes and colors.

Then she did something that he hadn't expected. She scanned the blacksmith shop with her cold, blue, eyes to make sure that no one else was watching. And once she seemed satisfied with the idea that there were absolutely no witnesses, she walked up to him and greeting him with a sort of half-hearted smile.

"Hello, Hiccup," she said, and Hiccup was so shocked that he almost fell off of his stool.

"H-hi Astrid," replied Hiccup shakily.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him conversationally.

"Good." he replied.

Astrid noted the scrapes and bruises on his face and arms. The pillow that he was sitting on. The bandages on his hands and fingers.

"...You're a liar," she accused.

She looked like she wanted to hug him, but she didn't. She just kept staring at him with that same glassy, far away,expression. It was more than a little unnerving.

"Yea, so I'm a liar," admitted Hiccup. "...So um do you require the assistance of a blacksmith or what?"

"Your a blacksmith's apprentice."

"It's the same thing really."

"No it's not."

There was an awkward silence.

"So did you hear," said Astrid in another attempt to make casual conversation. "Fishlegs is 'dark and disturbed' now."

"'Dark and disturbed', huh?"

"He feels bad about what he did to you, I think," said Astrid. "And he's acting like a complete idiot about it."

"You mean he wasn't a complete idiot before?" interjected Hiccup.

"No, what I mean is...um. I ran into him the other day, and he looked really different," explained Astrid. "His hair's black, and his clothes are all ripped up, and he wants me to call him 'Sharkheads', apparently. It's...uh it's pretty weird."

Hiccup was pretty fucking pissed at Fishlegs, and he was eager to change the subject.

"You know what else is weird," he began. "Uh..._dragons_. They breve fire, and yet they manage to not spontaneously combust, somehow. You'd think that the chemistry in there is pretty volatile but apparently its not..."

His voice trailed off. Asted had grabbed one of his hands seemed to be observing his bandaged fingers.

"Are they broken?" she asked him.

"Uh no," said Hiccup pointing to the index finger on his right hand. "This one's sprained." He pointed to his middle finger. "This one's broken."

"Heh. Very funny."

Hiccup looked down at his hand in confusion, and wiggled his bandaged fingers, as though trying to gage which one hurt the worst.

"Or is this one sprained," He pointed to his middle finger again. "And this one broken," He pointed back at his index finger. "They both really hurt, so I'm not sure."

"What about this one?" she asked pointing to his ring finger which was bandaged as well.

"That one's cut," said Hiccup. "It needed stitches."

"Bet you took that like a man," chuckled Astrid sarcastically.

"I didn't," said Hiccup. "But thanks for the vote of confidence."

She stared at him for a moment, noting the way that the light of the fire from the kin was reflected in his green eyes. His brows seemed to be furrowed with an expression of mock indignity. But this was only an act. That little sideways grin of his was just a mask he wore so that she wouldn't see that he was in pain. And she knew it because...his eyes said something different.

"You shouldn't be working with your hands all injured like that," said Astrid concernedly.

"Yea, well, I missed too much time at work, and Gober's away this week so he needs someone to watch the shop."

"I'm serious, Hiccup, they won't heal right." said Astrid. She was starting to sound a bit angry.

"Well, you don't care about me, right?" said Hiccup crossing his arms. He knew he had the advantage in this argument. "I'm just a worthless, useless, cry baby to you, anyway."

"Shut up, Hiccup. You're a moron too."

"So why do you care if my fingers don't heal right?" complained Hiccup angrily. "You know that you don't. So just shut up and leave me alone."

"You know, there's a reason why nobody likes you," seethed Astrid.

Hiccup didn't have an answer for this. His face fell. He looked as though Astrid had just stabbed him in the heart.

Astrid left the blacksmith's shop, still seething with characteristic rage. This was all so messed up. There had to be a way to fix it...but how?


	2. Chapter 2

In this chapter Astrid asks a philosophical question. It is a question that will definitely turn up in something else that I'm writing. So if you see it in a book someday...er...yea, shutting up now.

**Chapter 2**

"Aughhh! I hate everyone!" shouted Astrid as soon as she was outside blacksmiths' shop. She figured that Hiccup could probably still hear her but she didn't care.

There was a barrel filled with fish guts (bait for dragons they use it to catch the ones that they keep for combat training) out side of the shop, and she kicked it, sending a spasm of pain through the big toe of her right foot.

"Ow! Fuck!" she shrieked.

A few yards away, she could see a small boy with yellow hair, and very blue eyes was watching her as though she where some kind of horrifying yet strangely amusing sideshow.

"Yea I said fuck!" she shouted in the direction of the toddler, hoping to scare him away. "Nice people don't say fuck, but I said fuck...'cause I'm NOT NICE!"

The small boy continued to stare at her with that same expression. Apparently, he found this amusing.

"Oh...I give up...," muttered Astrid to herself. She slumped down against the side of the barrel and put her head in her hands.

She peered out through her fingers. The small boy was still watching her. But he was closer, now. About a foot away.

"Don't give up," he said in his high-pitched little kid voice. By all rights it aught to have been annoying, but given the circumstances it was actually kind of sweet.

"Ah...ha ha..." Astrid, who hadn't been expecting the small child to speak was strangely taken aback. "You can talk, huh? Well um... could I ask you a question?"

The boy didn't answer, but he also didn't retreat. Or blink. Astrid took that as a yes and went ahead with her question.

"OK...so...let's say that hypothetically-_hypothetically_-you like someone...but no one else likes them...so you can't really tell them how you feel... Then that person kind of..._needs _you but they don't trust you-and they shouldn't! Gods. They'd have to be stupid or insane or both to trust you-because you're not the kind of person...who er...who can be trusted. How do you protect that person? How do you take care of them, and keep them safe? But how do you do all of those things...without blowing your cover?"

"Don't give up," repeated the boy. It wasn't an especially helpful answer, but it was thoughtful she supposed.

"Is it wrong to want to be with someone that you don't respect? Is it wrong to want to be with someone _because_ you don't respect them?"

"Don't give up."

Astrid's icy blue eyes narrowed into slits.

"Is that all you can say?" she asked him suspiciously.

"Don't give up." repeated the boy. "Don't give up! Don't give up! Don't give up! Don't give up!"

"I should have known..." grumbled Astrid as the small boy began to run circles around her shouting the same three infuriating syllables over and over again.

It was really stupid of her to think that the gods would send some little kid as a means of fixing her problems. Little kids weren't good for anything...except for maybe a headache, and Astrid certainly had a headache right now.

"Where's you mother!" Astrid asked the boy, shouting so that he could hear her over his own sheiks of "Don't give up!"

She didn't think that he would understand her, and she was right. His reply was "Don't give up." and that did nothing to suggest comprehension.

The boy ran off in a seemingly random direction, and Astrid trotted after him. For a moment she thought that maybe he would lead her somewhere important (somewhere question answery perchance) that might restore her faith in the gods. Instead he lead her to an outhouse.

Maybe this was the gods' way of telling her that she was full of shit.


	3. Chapter 3

I can't wait until this movie comes out on DVD then I can make _everyone _watch it. All I need is a little rope and some duct-tape...and maybe some date rape pills. Hey, don't look at me that way! The whole damn world needs to watch this movie.

**Chapter 3**

Fishlegs was feeling particularly depressed that evening. He tried to forget exactly why he was depressed, but that didn't work. To assist himself with forgetting, he slammed his head against a tree a few times.

Now he had a headache _and_ he was depressed. He resolved to find a better solution.

Running. Running was a good solution. He started to run hoping that on some level he would be able to out run his guilt. He sped across town, and his dark hair was swept backward by the force of his propulsion. For a moment, Fishlegs was actually enjoying himself. He let himself think about nothing except the way that it felt to run.

Alas, morbidly obese teenagers are not always the best runners. It wasn't long before Fishlegs started to get really, really, tired. There was a stitch in his side, and his legs ached from the pressure of holding up his massive frame. It was agony. But at least it was distracting agony. Fishlegs closed his eyes and kept running, which worked very well until he ran face first into the side of a wooden out-house.

The force of the impact sent Fishlegs flying backward. His eyes flew open as he hit the ground. There was a loud crashing noise followed by some angry cursing in a thick Scottish accent, presumably the man who had been trapped inside of the out-house at the point of collision.

"There's something wrong with you," said Astrid who had been standing a few feet away, silently observing the phenomenon.

She looked quite annoyed.

"You know, Astrid, I don't remember ever asking for your opinion sooo..." Fishlegs rolled his eyes up into his head as though searching for the right words to finish this sentence.

"...Shut up," he finished lamely, crossing his arms in a manner which was usually quite uncharacteristic of him. He imagined that it made him look tough.

"You shut up," spat Astrid in reply.

Arguing seemed to be the only way that they could communicate, so "shut up" and "you shut up" have for all intensive purposes replaced "how are you" and "I'm fine" in casual conversation.

"So I see your still on this whole 'dark and disturbed' kick," said Astrid. She still looked quite annoyed, but there was a flat, defeated, quality to her voice that suggested resignation to annoyance. "How's that workin' out for ya?"

"Uh...good...I guess." said Fishlegs. He was so thrown off by the the sudden shift in the conversation that he had momentarily forgotten his new persona. "How's um...you know..."

"Hiccup," finished Astrid darkly. "He's a mess. He's a damn mess, and he won't even take time off from his stupid job to recover. His fingers are all broken and fucked up, but he won't stop, and he's not obeying-I mean-_listening _to me. It's driving me insaine."

"Oh...," said Fishlegs.

"Do you think you might be able to help me out?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...," began Astrid. "Hiccup doesn't really trust me, and he's not going to take my advice about the whole situation. But you're his friend, Fishlegs, maybe he'll listen to you."

"You mean I _was_his friend," said Fishlegs. "My only friend now is uh...darkness."

Astrid rolled her eyes.

"And it's not Fishlegs any more. It's Sharkheads, and Sharkheads doesn't take shit from anyone...bitch."

"Your a fat, hidious, blob," countered Astrid.

"That was mean."

"Yea, well, I'm mean. So are you going to help me or what?"

"Yea," said Fishlegs looking down at his feat. "Yea, I guess I'll help you."


	4. Chapter 4

There some very important stuff going on in my life right now, but I did promise that I would finish this. I really like to keep my promises even if they are to faceless, anonymous, people. So here's the deal. I'm going to wait until this chapter gets at least five reviews before I post the next one. I don't think that I've ever gotten five reviews for a single chapter EVER. Which means that I'll never have to update this and I'll be your fault. Hurray for not finishing stuff :P

**Chapter 4**

"Sometimes I don't see the point of anything anymore, Toothless," said Hiccup looking up into the dragon's luminous yellowish-green eyes.

The dragon squinted at him and turned its head slightly to one side as though attempting to comprehend his meaning.

"What I mean is...," Hiccup looked down at his feet. "I put all of that effort into getting Astrid to...you know...show some affection for me...but it's kinda a waste of my time. She's not ever going to admit that she likes me. So maybe she doesn't like me. Maybe she just feels sorry for me. When you think about it _that_ would make a lot more sense."

The dragon growled and nudged Hiccup in the chest with its head. Hiccup laughed.

"Yea, I wish I could stay a little longer, but I really have to head back to the village before anyone notices that I'm gone. Plus it's getting dark so-," he patted the dragon's head. "Bye."

It was getting dark.

Astrid could see Hiccup limping slowly toward the village. His timid green eyes where wide and paranoid and searched the dark corners of the landscape as though expecting a few dozen bullies to pop out from behind every bush.

Astrid had never seen Hiccup behave that way when he was wandering aimlessly, and she wondered for the first time if the ordeal had created some lasting physiological effect. She had a sudden vision of Hiccup his arms where tied behind his back and he was looking sadly up at her, wearing that same paranoid expression.

"_Its for your own good you know_," said the Astrid in Astrid's mind. "_Your not in your right mind, and I can't have you hurting yourself That-_" she held a carving knife against his throat as though prepared to slice him. "_Is my job_."

The Hiccup in Astrid's mind screamed and Astrid giggled. She pictured herself moving the knife down to his chest creating a non-fatal wound on the smooth flesh between his nipples. She forced the idea out of her mind. Damn it, she had a foolproof plan to carry out with, and she refused to let her sick little brain distract her.

"Hiccup!" she exclaimed running toward him.

Hiccup screamed and nearly lost his balance.

"It's OK, Hiccup, it's just me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Astrid," said Hiccup relaxing slightly. "You scared me."

"Yea, I do that sometimes," said Astrid dismissively. "Sorry, but I needed to find you. I need your help. You see...Fishlegs has joined a cult."

"Yea, so why do I care?"

"It's a dangerous cult, Hiccup," insisted Astrid. "They try to isolate you from society, and then they shave your head and never let you see the light of day. I saw them, Hiccup, they're freaky. Those mother fucking freaks only worship one god."

"So you think it's like a _brain washing_ cult?" asked Hiccup.

"Most likely," replied Astrid. "Fishlegs is getting in pretty deep."

"Well I guess that's too bad then," said Hiccup bitterly. "Because I really don't care."

Astrid crossed her arms in annoyance. She figured she might run into a problem like this. But that was OK, because this viking had more than one trick up her sleeve. It was time to play the sex appeal card.

"Gods, Hiccup, for once in your life could you not be so damn selfish. Fishlegs is a really good friend of mine," she lied. "And I really want to help him. There going to be an intervention, and I really, really, need you to be there. Please, Hiccup, I really need you to do this for me," she took his hands into hers and held them, letting her elegant little fingers weave between his heavily bandaged ones. "As a friend."

Hiccup blushed and looked away. A doofy little sideways grin spread across his face, as she tightened her grip on his hands.

"Oh...OK," he said still grinning. "Well, I guess I can do it."


	5. Chapter 5

How did you-why would you-ugh! I bet you guys think you're clever...thwarting my evil plans. And they where so fool proof too ;_; So I guess I have to finish this story now. But I'm only writing chapter six if I get at least six reviews, any you all have to say something thoughtful. Something that'll totally, like, I dunno, rock my word. Also, make me some fancy cheese cake.

Ha ha. I kid. (Not about the cheese cake part, though. That's me being serious.) It's always great to know that people are reading my horrible stories. You have no idea how much it means to me.

**Chapter 5**

Astrid had a plan. It wasn't a very good plan, and it didn't make a whole lot of sense, but it was a plan damn it. It was Astrid's plan, and she was going to see it through to the end.

She and Fishlegs had discussed the particulars of it the previous day.

"Yea, so your going to pretend like your in a cult, and I'm going to pretend like I actually care," Astrid had told Fishlegs on said previous day.

"-And then what?" Fishlegs had replied. She could tell that he had wanted to sound sarcastic, but his swift reply had betrayed his curiosity.

"We use it as an excuse to stop Hiccup from over exerting himself," Astrid had explained. "You know, a distraction. We'll get him so wrapped up in all of this fake drama that he couldn't possibly-_possibly_-hurt himself. But first we have to come up with some...you know, cult rules."

A dangerous glint had come into Astrid's eyes as the words "cult rules" had escaped her lips in a sensuous whisper, but thankfully, Fishlegs didn't seem to have noticed.

He had stared morosely at her from beneath his greasy, black, bangs, rolling his eyes in an infuriatingly uncharacteristic fashion.

"Explain to me why you think this is a good idea?" he had said.

"It just is! shut up!" Astrid had demanded, and that seemed to have settled the argument.

"OK," said Fishlegs in reply. "Rule number one, we build monuments to the most awesome and revered Fishlegs-er...Sharkheads."

"...You're a very strange boy, aren't you?

"Don't judge me."

"Yea," said Astrid after awhile. "We'll make that rule number two. Rule number one is that I'm the only one who's aloud to make up rules."

Yes, Astrid was confident that with little bit of luck, and just the perfect arrangement of circumstances she would be able to rape Hiccup...um, stop him from hurting himself. Yea, that's it, stop him from hurting himself...in her brain it was almost the same thing.

She stared over at Hiccup who was grinning at her stupidly. He twisted the front of his bear shin vest nervously between his bandaged fingers, then looked at his feet and blushed.

"I'm glad that I could help, Astrid," he said, still not looking at her.

"Yea, well, it means a lot to me," lied Astrid. "Thanks for coming along."

They were standing in front of an old, abandoned, woodshed, the supposed "meeting place" of Fishlegs' cult. The dust on the windows was too thick to see through, so Astrid knocked on the door in order to alert Fishlegs to their presence.

The entrance to the shed creaked open just wide enough for Fishlegs to poke his head out and glare at them.

"What do you want?" he grumbled moodily.

"This is an intervention," said Astrid. "We're here because we want you to forget this stupidity and be normal again."

"Uh...yea!" added Hiccup stupidly. Astrid could tell that he was putting a lot of effort into trying to sound forceful. It wasn't working.

"Well, I like being in a cult," countered Fishlegs. "I'm just, you know...a cult kinda guy. This is who I am now. I worship one god, and I don't dust the windows, and I stay up until 2:15 every night preforming tribal scaring and drinking yak's blood. It's who I am."

"You have to stop this, Fishlegs, before something horrible happens to you," groaned Astrid, slapping a hand to her forehead.

"She's right," said Hiccup without much conviction.

"My name is Sharkheads, damn it!" said Fishlegs, retreating to the safety of the "meeting place" and snapping the door closed behind him.

"Um...," said Astrid. "Maybe we should come back tomorrow."

...

Astrid returned to the meeting place a few minuets after she managed to lose Hiccup. As much as she liked him, she couldn't be _seen_with him. It would ruin her reputation. So, she had turned down Hiccup's polite invitation to "hang out" with him for awhile (a bit nastily because she liked hurting him) and returned to the "meeting place" to yell at Fishlegs for messing up her script.

"Where the hell is the damn cult leader with the coconut shell mask that you promised me?" bitched Astrid when she saw Fishlegs sitting crosslegged beneath the shadow of the abandoned shack.

"Yea, my brother doesn't want to do it," said Fishlegs. "He thinks you're deranged."

"Well that's annoying," said Astrid. "Could you find anyone else?"

"Everyone thinks you're deranged," explained Fishlegs.

"Oh," replied Astrid. "Well, I guess I'll just have to improvise then."


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews, guys. There's some perversion for this chapter so I hope you enjoy it. (If not then you might want to skip this one.)

If you want chapter seven you'll have to leave me at least seven reviews. Also, write an ode to my greatness which can be sung to the tune of "Your Love is My Drug". You get extra points if you do it in a bear costume.

**Chapter 6**

The next day, Hiccup returned to the old shack, unaccompanied by Astrid.

He remembered that Astrid had described Fishlegs as "a really close friend", which seemed really strange because Hiccup was almost positive that they hated each other. Had that been a misconception, or had the recent drama concerning Fishlegs' cult intensified the bond of their friendship? To him, the later circumstance seemed more likely. It gave him an idea. There was a way to win Astrid's affection...He would have to join a cult.

He crept closer to the dilapidated old building, noting with distrust that a thick film of dust covering the windows made it impossible to peer inside. Cautiously, he reached out and touched the doorknob. Its metal surface felt cold under his feverish grip.

The door was pulled open from the inside.

"Aghh!" Hiccup screamed as he jumped backward, nearly falling over. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry! I didn't...Fishlegs?"

Fishlegs had been peering out at him from a small opening between the door and the side of the building. There where bags under his eyes, and he was looking uncharacteristically grim, but besides that he was basically Fishlegs...good old, basically nonthreatening, harmlessly out of his mind, Fishlegs.

"It's Sharkheads," corrected Fishlegs. He open the door to the shack, revealing the dark, filthy, room within. "...Come on inside."

Hiccup stepped into the building and heard the door creak shut behind him. The only light now was the dull glow cast by a row of blood red candles against the far wall of the building.

"...Tell me Sharkheads," hissed a mysterious voice just beyond the light of the burning candles. "What have you seen in the world of the light?"

"Nothing, my mistress," replied Fishlegs darkly. "The light is stupid and not any where as super awesome as this super cult you made me join."

"Please...uh...Mistress!" shouted Hiccup in the direction of the voice. "I want to join your um...cult..."

"What?" said Fishlegs and suddenly he sounded like himself again. "Why would you wanna do the that?"

"It sounds uh...fun?" said Hiccup. It sounded more like a question than an answer.

"That's great!" hissed the mysterious voice quickly. "When can you start?"

"Um, right now, I guess," said Hiccup.

"Your in luck," said the voice. "The cults having an initiation ceremony right now."

"Right now?" asked Hiccup.

"Yes," said the voice.

"You mean like right this minuet?" asked Hiccup.

"That's right," confirmed the voice.

There was a moment of silence and then the voice continued.

"We will start by introducing ourselves," it said.

A few more candles where lit, illuminating the circle of people who were present in the room. Hiccup could see Fishlegs illuminated by the candle's fire, accompanied by a slender individual wearing a coconut mask (presumably the owner of the mysterious hissing voice). There was also a boy that Hiccup had never seen before. He was lanky and had short, disheveled, hair the color of dark mud.

"Wha-how-WHO ARE YOU?" shouted the cult leader indignantly, pointing in the direction of the boy with the disheveled hair.

"Wheelbarrel, ma'am," replied the boy. "I'm here for the yak's blood and ritual scaring."

"How did you even-you know what, never mind, Wheelbarrel, welcome to the cult," said the cult leader. "Now it's time for initiation-Sharkheads you can leave. Be sure to go off really far away and don't come back um...'til midnight."

"OK," said Fishlegs indifferently, and he exited the shack. "Good bye."

The cult leader walked up to Hiccup and pointed at him.

"Choose your torment," she said to him.

"Excuse me?"

"Choose your torment," she repeated. "In order to be initiated into this cult you must first suffer. I can burn you, cut you, or beat you. Which is it gonna be?"

"Um...none of those things?"

"Wrong answer."

There was a moment of silence and then Wheelbarrel spoke up.

"I choose all three ma'am!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Oh, would you shut up, I wasn't asking you," said the cult leader and Wheelbarrel obeyed.

The cult leader focused her attention back on Hiccup.

"So," she whispered quietly. "Which is it going to be?"

"Um..." said Hiccup and he turned and ran from the building.

"Oh just great!" Shouted the cult leader when he was gone. "That's just fucking fabulous!"

She turned to Wheelbarrel.

"Bring him back!" she hissed.

Wheelbarrel did a one handed salute.

"Yes my mistress!" he barked in reply.

...

Hiccup was running now. Sprinting as quickly as he could away from that horrible little shack. Why had he tried to join that cult in the first place anyway? Maybe because he was looking for a way to make Astrid continue feeling sorry for him. Maybe because he wanted to drink the yak's blood. Right now it wasn't important. The only thing that was important was that he continue running.

There seemed to be someone chasing him, a lanky yet muscular boy with dark hair. The one that had called himself Wheelbarrel. Hiccup continued to run, but his injured legs slowed him considerably and it wasn't long before Wheelbarrel caught up to him. Hiccup slowed considerably, clutching his side. The his knees and ankles where beginning to feel like broken glass. Wheelbarrel lept forward and tackled him.

Both boys fell to the ground, Wheelbarrel on top of Hiccup. Hiccup punched Wheelbarrel in the face and managed to roll out from under him. Wheelbarrel didn't shout or clutch his bleeding nose. There was no delayed response, no window of time during which Hiccup might lift himself up and continue running. Wheelbarrel giggled and rolled on top of Hiccup pinning his arms firmly to his sides.

"Hee hee hee. You're kinda hot."

He sounded like such an idiot that it almost didn't feel like a threat, but then again there was something more than a little disturbing about that giggle.

"Shit...," moaned Hiccup desperately. He struggled against Wheelbarrel's grasp, but found it impossible to throw him off. "Shit!"

Wheelbarrel giggled again, and nuzzled his face against Hiccup's neck. The bristles on his chin where like sandpaper.

"Hee hee hee," giggled Wheelbarrel stupidly. "You smell like apricots...and um...pine trees..."

Hiccup kneed Wheelbarrel in the groin. Wheelbarrel let out a high-pitched squeak and rolls over gripping his crotch.

Hiccup kept running.

(Duh-duuh-DUUUN! What will happen next? No really, you decide. I'll write basically anything at this point.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry, it took me so long to come out with the final chapter to this. It's just that I'm bored of this story and I'm tired of writing it. I know that a handful of people for some inexplicable reason actually care how this will end, and those people will have an ending. It will be an ending of highly debatable quality, but it will be an ending never the less. If, for what ever reason, you are dissatisfied with this ending, I encourage you to write your own. Let me know if you do. I'll list the title and author of alternate endings at the end of the story in "chapter 8" if I get any.**

**Chapter 7**

Hiccup kept running. He didn't turn around to see if Wheelbarrel was still chasing him.

"Yea, keep running!" shouted Wheelbarrel from some where in the background. "You can't run from me forever!"

**...**

Rocka's husband was passed out on the couch after an afternoon of heavy drinking. He was a morbidly obese man with a peg leg and a tangled blonde beard.

Rocka was rather bored with whatever it was that she thought she was doing that day, so she decided to adopt a new imperatively important objective. She was going to paint a capital letter L on the forehead of her gimpy husband while he slept. (She was really going to do it. She had the paintbrush ready and everything.)

Rocka crept slowly toward him, stooped down carefully, and pressed the paintbrush to his forehead. She heard a door open and slam behind her, but mundane details such as this would not distract her from the crucially important task at hand. She moved her beefy arm upward in a graceful stroke, then downward and to the side, creating a delicate and carefully illuminated capital letter L in permanent red paint.

"R-Rock?" inquired a nasally voice from behind her.

Rocka didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Hiccup? What are you doing here?" demanded Rocka almost angrily. She still didn't care enough to turn around.

"Escaping," answered Hiccup. He sounded as though he had been running, but once again Rocka didn't care.

"Can't you see I'm busy here?" grumbled Rocka. "I don't have time for you and your stupid problems."

"But Rocka..."

"Why don't you go talk to Astrid about it," suggested Rocka dismissively. "She likes you, you know."

"She likes me?" repeated Hiccup. He was unable to disguise the enthusiasm in his voice. Even though he had heard the words from Astrid herself he still had trouble believing it.

"Well duh," said Rock. When she said it it sounded so true. "She's literally out of her mind when she's near or around you...or your name is mentioned. It's kind of disgusting."

"Um...thanks, Rocka," said Hiccup and he sprinted from the hut. He had that stupid grin on his face again. He had to see Astrid.

**...**

Astrid managed to change out of her disguise and back into her normal clothes before Hiccup met up with her again at her house. He told her that he realized he was working too hard, and she told him that she despised both him _and_ his face.

She decided to give up on the cult scam. Really, that was an incredibly stupid idea to begin with.

Fishlegs gave up on being Goth when he realized that it made him even lamer than he was before.

Rocka's husband got into a fist fight with a guy named Sledgehammer when she told him that it was _he_ who had inscribed the capital letter L on his forehead. This somehow lead to everyone in the bar having a fistfight with every one else. Rocka found this immensely entertaining.

Wheelbarrel had non-consensual sex with a forest of pine trees.

**END. **


End file.
